BRAPA in .... NO AVOIDIN' CROYDON : LONDON PART 1/3 (THE FIRST TEN TICKS)

Monday 22nd November 2025, 3pm

"Don't even start on the lifts cos I'm sick of hearing about them. YES, I KNOW one is out of service and the other is being repaired. You'll just have to take the stairs. If ONE MORE person mentions it to me today, I'm going to lose it, so how can I help you?"

"Errrm, well I just want to check in if possible?" I squeak in reply.

This was the start to a week of pub ticking, 33 Greater London Good Beer Guide pubs remain, the majority of which I want to do by Saturday morning. There'd also be a dollop of morale boosting (easy) West Sussex.

I'm checking in at the Premier Inn a stone's throw from East Croydon station. It was a grey damp windy afternoon. Not many smiling faces greet me off the train.

I appreciate her Basil Fawlty energy as Premier Inn staff can be rather milque-toast. Extracting a key card from the machine took an age, she looked like she was about to cry, told an odd job man installing a Christmas tree that she was ready to throw something through the window (me?) and points me angrily in the direction of the staircase with the parting shot "I've put you on floor 2 so you don't have as far to walk .... so don't go saying I don't do anything for you!"

I never returned to the reception area after this, not even for a top up on tea, coffee or milks.

I hoped this start wasn't a sign of pubbing to come, but it was ......

No Happy Floofs are present, but having bought a bag of groceries from the adjoining Tesco, unpacked my big bag and re-packed a smaller BRAPA one, I head out into the late afternoon gloom with West London in mind. Six pubs I'd like before last orders.

#1 Moon on the Square, Feltham (3151 / 5992)

I say all good BRAPA holidays begin with a 'Spoons. Hmmm. Utter scrote hole this one. Being near posh stuff like Twickers, Teddo, Richers and Strawb H, who'd have thought Feltham would be such a dive? Toothless tracksuited types with arses hanging out wearing crocs. A fight nearly breaks out between strangers, one adjudged to have brushed against another's chair and not apologised. Twenty stone daughter stands up and goes over .... "No one disrespecks my Mum!" Tis' so Jezza Kyle. I'm sitting in the centre of the room, and I wish my peripheral vision was better. My pint of Twick Grandstand is fizzy and tired. Knew I should've gone Abbot Reserve.

#2 Admiral Nelson, Whitton (3152 / 5993)

Open plan pastel and grey boredom hole, this hadn't been a good start to my ticking week had it? Bar blocker staring intensifies as I get into a cute little chat with his fave barmaid. 'We don't know you and don't want your sort in here' was the gist of the look. Similar beer conundrum. Sensibly swerving 8% Fullers Vintage for a Twick Naked Ladies. It never clears and again, is fizzy and tired. Does London not change its weekend ales until Tuesday? I find a surprise colourful side room, orange bench seating and much shit local art hanging from the walls. Two schoolteachers come in with Prosecco and smile at me. HUMANITY AT LAST. But this was a desperately gloomy pub in the main.

#3. Prince Albert, Twickenham (3153 / 5994)

Finally, signs of life, as dusk falls in this early Christmas Grotto. Glad the shitness hadn't extended into a third pub. Fullers at their best. A long slim pub, mood-lit, plentiful dark mahogany panels and shiny brewery mirrors. "Oi oi!" greet the local wideboys at the bar. "Alright!" I reply, maintaining eye contact. They weren't expecting that and quickly look down at their feet. It is Fuller's 180th anniversary and they've done a beer to mark the occasion. Tastes like half Pride / half ESB. I can get on board with that! If Harvey's call theirs a 'Mother-in-Law', what is Fullers? Step-Uncle-out-on-Probation? A sweaty Euro student in fleece is reading a classic. A bar blocker tries to interrupt him ... "Oi've seen you in 'ere before ain't I?", so the terrified lad moves to a seat behind me. Bar blocker looks pleased he's affected a change.

#4. Builders Arms, Teddington (3154 / 5995)

We're really sucking diesel now lads, even better than the Prince Albert because it is that little bit more independent and unique. Perfectly formed intimate angular interior full of London's favourite pub feature, the wood panel. 'Snowy' by Windsor & Eton had nothing to do with Tintin's dreadful Nazi dog, but has that Belgian wheatiness, making it ride like a 6%er - it sure ain't an easy drinker. The Scouse guv'nor is over to light my candle for added atmosphere, though I have a woodburner close at hand. He needed a break from the depressed Spurs fan blocking the bar. Are Spurs fans the blockiest in the '92? Them, Leicester or QPR. 'Tis a close run thing. All can lack spatial awareness. Three kind gents of a certain age complete a happy scene.

#5. Red Lion, Isleworth (3155 / 5996)

I didn't get to last year's new Isleworth entry, but in any case they've swapped it out for this scaffold-clad gem which I'm assuming (for sanity's sake) is an improvement! First 'Hull City badge clockage' of the week follows. Courtesy of the trio of Irish lads at the bar, sinking a few lagers having finished tarmaccing a few local driveways, probably. "Don't listen to what THEY say mate, I've got a lot of time for Hull as a city, respect" I just wish I knew who THEY were and what they were saying! I'll never know as they close ranks and I happily wander over to the swathe of flowing red leather bench, like an erupted Mt. Etna. The only ale on is a chalky unbadged Black Sheep. I enjoy it as much as is humanely possible. Much as I enjoyed this place, it didn't scream solid GBG entry,

#6. Northumberland Arms, Brentford (3156 / 5997)

Having opened at 5pm, my latest London opener of the week, I was praying this self styled 'bar' but actual tight-knit pub was not going to close early. I'm pleased to find it in full swing because the clock is ticking. Second Hull City badge clockage in quick succession, maybe the booze was making folk braver! "Hull City haha, we are QPR fans, we beat you the other day!" chirp Sam and the Polish Daniella. I ask how come they are drinking in the home of a far superior West London team, then remain at the bar with them the entire time. They even have a pub mascot to keep Ivor Panda company but I was too pissed to remember his name. Speaking of which, I briefly spill my guest Oakham, but the barman of exciting hair and accent deals with it swiftly, zero fuss. Weird bar set up cos you have look downwards to see the guest ales, which is unusual and disconcerting when you've had a few. Sam is lovin' BRAPA, sifting through my GBG, has a comment about every single London GBG pub apart from the Duke of St Albans at Kentish Town. I can sense Daniella getting restless, but he just rubs her back at regular intervals to keep her spirits up. Good stuff. Despite the slow start, day one had been a success.

So that was day one, but I can't leave it there if 'Operation Blog Catch Up' is going to be a success by the time I hit Shropshire in March.

Tuesday 23rd November 2025

27 London GBG pubs remained for me to tick. My day 1ers had been in a simple western cluster, but day two took me north for three awkwardly placed ones, before I return Sarf by teatime for three more.

#7. Greyhound, Hendon (3157 / 5998)

A very proper pub tucked away in the leafy backstreets of Hendon. Atmos ain't helped by a shivering barmaid in a coat so huge, she may as well be wearing a dry robe. I never think it a good look for pub staff, think they should feign warmth like supermodels or the Neighbours cast were forced to do on Melbourne's chillier days, just to create an illusion of 24/7 Aussie warmth for dim UK audiences. Former Arsenal gaffer Herbert Chapman winks at me from the toilet entrance. He's buried in the churchyard next door. His brother Harry briefly played for Hull City before dying of TB, which hopefully isn't Hull's fault. Watford would blame us. The TT Landlord is spot on. My 98th pint of it. 100th is getting close now, squeaky bum time. Oh hang on, that's Harvey's. I've sat far away in the corner. Despite being 11:20am, a couple of codgers are already being jokey, and I'm still a bit fragile from last night so not in the mood for another bar standing chat. Impressive start though.

#8. Duke of St Albans, Kentish Town (3158 / 5999)

Tube manoeuvre, through Belsize Park, across Hampstead Heath, dying for a wee but too many people about, and besides I've read about what can happen when you get your nob out around here (RIP George) so I hang on before I go go. Supercilious staff, toffee nosed punters and non-plussed yanks 'greet' me at this impressive high ceilinged one roomer. Unless you count dogs and U.S. babies, it takes SIX attempts of smiling at individuals before I get one in return. Then I get three in a row. One of London's more obscure new GBG entries, it is far too bougie for my liking. I prefer bogie. I've found a sliver of carpet, it's mine and I'm sticking to it! But I'm not enjoying the Five Points Green Hop. Then again, I never enjoy a beer labelled 'Green Hop' even when Kent people wang on about green hop festivals so we'll let the pub off that one. Should've gone for the Boddies, a beer more incongruous with the surroundings you'd struggle to find!

#9. Robin, Stroud Green (3159 / 6000)

Disconcertingly immaculate, the pub temperature should be a blueprint to pubs across the land. Perfect warmth. No wonder there's a bloke in a vest sat in the window playing Monkey Island on an Amiga Emulator. Staff actually smile. Green shallow velveteen booths down the left hand side offer comfort and a modicum of privacy without being closed off. The Left Handed Giant Dark Mild is a thing of beauty, and at 3.4%, win win for me. An Australian 'tache/mullet samples about fifteen beers (with a sip of water between each one) but the staff are so patient, I didn't see one eye-roll. I'm saying #CraftWanker anyway. I note the pub has lost the 'Brave Sir' from its Robin since it was last in a GBG which might mean Python's been cancelled. A fine way to bring up my 6,000th overall BRAPA pub. Incidentally, the only other time I drank this mild was when I first hit 3,000 current GBG pubs #FunBoringFact

#10. White Swan, Richmond (3160 / 6001)

It was a long way back to SW London for tick number four of my second day. The sun was already setting behind the Thames towpath. My third visit to Richmond. I feel strangely at home here, incredibly contented. Only rational explanation is that I lived here in a past life! The pub is a thing of elegance, quietly understated, tucked away at the end of a terrace of 'ouses. The landlord has a presence and aura. I wonder if he's been on the stage or a high court judge. Much gentle jollity as he changes the barrel. "My own impatience is the bane of my life!" he projects. Such quips you never hear in Barnsley. A fresh barrel of Otter. Otter rarely tastes this good. He cleans the lines as well as he delivers them! The dearth of customers at this time of day is a slight concern, this fine pub deserves better.

There were still two pubs to come today, one good one shite, but I'll tell you about them, all of day three and the beginning of day four in our second part which will be with you on Sunday.

Keep it pub this January, Si